


Cooking And Conversation

by anoptimusofmyown (IrisPerea2004), IrisPerea2004



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Don't Judge Me, F/M, Fluff, Gen, HELLO ETOILEVOIDGALAXIA THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, I don't know what I'm doing, Magic, Other, Pre-Relationship, at one point in time it resembled Magic Mechs, cybertronians are still robots, hello my worldbuilding mind has run away with me halp, i just nerfed the height differences a bit, no longer, oh yeah, plz enjoy my very niche ideas, sorta - Freeform, they also eat human food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPerea2004/pseuds/anoptimusofmyown, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPerea2004/pseuds/IrisPerea2004
Summary: In which you are a mother hen and Optimus is secretly enjoying all of it.(Fantasy AU)
Relationships: Optimus Prime & Reader, Optimus Prime/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Cooking And Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EtoileVoidGalaxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileVoidGalaxia/gifts).



Your lean over the cooking pot, stirring the stew and thinking.

In many ways, your life had become much, much more complicated when you had stumbled upon the Cybertronian refugees who called themselves 'Autobots.' A mushroom-gathering journey often turns up more than just mushrooms, but you had yet to see one with larger and more unexpected results than the one that had led you to the Cybertronians. You had been joined in short order by Jack, Miko and Rafael, children from the same village you lived in. Jack's mother, June, had followed. Sometimes you joked that the whole village will gradually wind up being in on the secret, but usually not where Ratchet, at least, can hear. 

You add another drop of energon and spoon out a tiny morsel to taste. The Cybertronians needed the purified energy to survive; without it, the magic the kept them alive faded to nothing. In large doses it was fatal to humans, bit after so long cooking the culinarily inept Cybertronians you had built up a resistance to the effects, usually feel nothing but a mild shock.

Your thoughts turn to Optimus; leader of the band. You were sensible enough to realize the fact you a burgeoning crush on him, but apparently not sensible enough to have avoided the feelings in the first place. He was a war leader, for the Lady's sakes! He didn't have time for kissing and canoodling and the like. The chunk of meat scorched your mouth, and you put a hand to it, eyes watering in pain.

"Are you all right?"

_Oh, sweet Lord of the Golden Grain._

You turned to meet the glowing blue eyes of the very mech your thoughts had turned to, repressing the urge to swear. "I'm fine," you said dismissively.

He dropped his eyes, hands of living metal folding behind him in a nervous sort of posture. "I apologize for disturbing you," he said quickly. "It was... not my intent."

You shrugged. "You didn't," you informed him. "Stay; the stew is almost ready."

He bowed his helm, and turns to the massive stone slab that Bulkhead had repurposed as a table for the massive Ceybertronians. The top came to about your chest, but at least you could reach to serve the massive bowls. Optimus obediantly sat, and you had to pretend to ignore his eyes following you as you ladled out a bowl as big as some small pots.

"Here, eat," you said. "The others can eat when they return; and Ratchet will come when he's hungry. For once," you add, noticing his expression, "let me handle things. You look exhausted."

He accepted the bowl and you had to ignore the flutters in your stomach when your hands accidentally brushed.

"Optimus, how long has it been since you last slept or recharged or whatever it is you call it?" you asked, studying the weary hunch in his shoulders, the faint tremble in his arms as he lifted the spoon to his mouth.

He hesitated a few minutes too long, and you sighed deeply, turning back to the pot. "I knew it. Optimus, you're as bad as Ratchet is."

Optimis dropped his spoon. "What about Ratchet--"

You whippped round to face him, hands planted on your hips. "Optimus, stop trying to change the subject." After a moment's thought, you reminded yourself that giving order to beings twice your size, made of metal and magic, is only ludicrous if you think about it, and don't. "When you're done with your stew, you should go to bed. You'll be no use to anyone if you collapse in the middle of a battle or something, will you?"

He looked back into his stew, a tiny smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "You can be quite forceful when it comes to my wellbeing," he said softly.

A smile of your own softened the stern lines your face had assumed. "Eat your stew, Optimus."


End file.
